


White Knight

by Leninouche



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Songwriting because it‘s hella fun, geralt is not as stupid as he could be, jaskier realized something, preamble to a confession you could say, sort of confession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leninouche/pseuds/Leninouche
Summary: Jaskier has a moment of silence and pours out feelings he didn‘t know he could feel. Geralt is good at spying, apparently.Pre-relationship, but we‘re getting there...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 407





	White Knight

**Author's Note:**

> So... I haven‘t written this much fanfiction EVER, to be honest, except for RPs maybe. But like...... three pieces for one couple??? I‘m not obsessed at all.   
> Anyways, these characters make me feel warm inside and I adore it, and you guys seem to like my attempts which makes me incredibly happy. Thanks for all your kind comments! There‘s not a lot of fluff in this one but I‘m working on it, I promise, cute fluff will come soon, I just needed to focus on Jaskier‘s mind for a moment.   
> Thanks a lot for reading! Love you xx

Gentle humming mixed together with the gust of sparks bursting from the small campfire and together they hurtled towards the night sky, free and glowing. The bard sat alone, back against a birch, lute in his lap, fingers idly brushing over the instrument in aimless creativity. With his eyes fixed on the stars above he wandered from melody to melody, enjoying the vibration in his throat and the sounds issuing out from between his lips.  
Geralt was somewhere in the forest, hunting for dinner and presumably gathering information on the werewolf that was supposed to haunt this area, but Jaskier had been too tired to keep walking and once he‘d sat down, he simply couldn‘t get back up again. And so he had stayed behind.

It was rather convenient, really. Of course the Bard enjoyed the Witcher‘s company, adored it, you could say, but even he needed a quiet moment from time to time. Maybe now more so than ever. For quite a few weeks now Jaskier had sensed a certain bubbly warmth inside of his chest every time Geralt was near.   
It was the sort of feeling he‘d get when spotting a beautiful woman in the crowd returning his gaze, when holding her hand in his, stroking the soft skin and glancing into her eyes eagerly.   
The sort of feeling he‘d get with renowned men that would listen to his performances at court or in taverns, that would follow his lips with their eyes, drink up his words, long for such praising couplets to bear their own name, for that voice to sing about their glory.  
It was the sort of feeling he‘d feel whenever he found someone new he longed to explore, to talk to, to listen to.   
Really, it was a feeling he encountered almost every day.   
In one word: it was love.   
Jaskier fell in love easily and without preamble, all that it needed was an interesting expression in their eyes, an intimate touch or even just a kind word. This circumstance did not bother him in the slightest, rather on the contrary. He adored adoring people, he loved learning about people and he enjoyed being near someone. Love to him was not something that would bring sorrow if left unrequited or that filled out every aspect of his life if reciprocated, it was simply an aspect of his soul that made him who he was.  
At the same time though, he fell out of love just as easily. Which was not surprising since almost every night he‘d enter a new town, rarely staying in one place at a time. A new town meant new people meant mew opportunities to connect. It was something like a cycle of affection that left every party content and appreciated and had no space for disappointment or betrayal.  
But now...  
From the very beginning he knew that at some point Geralt would become the knight of his heart, so to say. It was inevitable, really. As mentioned before, anyone interesting could capture his imagination, but Geralt was more than just interesting. He was, even in the opinion of people that were less curious than Jaskier, more fascinating and capturing than most human beings. Falling in love with this man was basically unavoidable.  
And it would not have been a problem had these feelings gone away at some point, as they usually did. Instead though, there he still was, becoming all soft inside every time Geralt gave him more food than he took for himself, or when he tended to Jaskier‘s wounds with uttermost care, or when he brought his bard dandelions found during a hunt.   
This affection itself was still a nice feeling, he enjoyed having Geralt near his heart and in his mind a lot, but the witcher would probably not be delighted should he ever find out. They were barely in a place of friendship yet (Geralt‘s fault), a reveal of this secret could easily tear their relationship apart.

A soft sigh escaped Jaskier and he pressed his fingers upon the lute, extinguishing all sound. These kinds of thoughts had been occupying his mind for a few days now, going round and round in circles.   
Suddenly he longed to get rid of them.  
After a moment of thought he began playing anew, gently plucking some strings until a lovely, melancholic melody filled the night-air with its sweet sound.

„Oh white knight, how long shall you still keep  
This gentle beating heart in your fingers sleek.  
Though calloused they may be from harsh sword and strong bow,  
No kinder touch has ever felt I, nor safer hold than now. 

White knight you seem no more than what you daily fight,  
Most people shy away from you by day and too by night,  
Yet I always can see how strong your care can be  
Even if you can‘t believe anyone would ever see.

Release me, oh I beg, for lonely are my dreams,   
Knowing nothing could ever bring you closer to me.  
And though I feel no shame to admit to how I feel,  
Still how could I live should this make you run from me?

Oh white knight, my thoughts are so full of you,  
Your presence fills my heart in almost everything I do,  
Yet until I die you may know naught of this song   
And i will keep these words locked away from you so strong.

I‘m sure this will be past soon, please be patient with me,  
Until then pray you never notice how strong my heart bleeds...“

The sound trickled away as Jaskier‘s fingers slid off the instrument, letting out a long breath. It was not often that he composed songs not meant to reach anyone‘s ears but his, such as this one now. Music was first job, then self-expression to him. And he rather regretted this little improvisation now, for something had become clear to him as the words formed in his head, pulling something out of the subconscious and out into the open.  
There was another difference in this strange affection for Geralt: For the first time he could not deny that an outright rejection would possibly break his heart for a very long time. Not only that, rejection could also come with disgust or distancing. With a person met in a bar ten minutes ago such a reaction would sting, but there’d be no long-lasting regret or sense of loss. With Geralt, though... Jaskier knew he wouldn‘t forgive himself should he ever drive his friend away for good.  
Suddenly the emotion of love gained a sense of danger in his mind, something he‘d have to keep secret or else suffer consequences too painful to think about...

A small smile passed over Jaskier‘s lips as he realized he was overthinking again. Everything would be fine, sometimes a song was only a song, poetry only indulgence and things would turn normal again. At least he hoped so.   
No. It would be fine.  
He put down the lute and settled comfortably against the birch, drawing up his legs to hug them. The night was peaceful, Geralt was still somewhere near, there was nothing to worry about. These bitter feelings got tucked back into the back of his mind, decidedly forgotten for now.  
After a few moments of idle reminiscing, Jaskier nodded off to sleep.

Once his soft snoring filled the glade, the Witcher stepped out from behind the trees, face puzzled. Of course he had witnessed Jaskier‘s song from start to finish, and he was not oblivious enough to fail at guessing correctly who possibly could be meant with „white knight.“   
There was something going on behind those yellow eyes of his, but after a moment of studying the sleeping bard he simply sighed before crouching down. With great gentleness he moved the lute out of the way before lowering the Jaskier to the earth, tucking a folded blanket beneath his head. Then he brought a second blanket and shook it out before laying it carefully over the bard. For a moment he regarded his peaceful face, then brought up a hand to the man‘s forehead. As his fingers brushed over the smooth skin something tugged at his heart, triggering a small „hmm“ to issue from his lips.   
Then he pulled away and sat down by the fire, setting to work on the raccoon he had shot only a few moments earlier. As much as he told himself to forget he could not stop a certain melody to waft through his mind, clouding his thoughts.   
Damnit, this bard really had a talent for getting him into troublesome situations.


End file.
